


Clutching at Straws

by Pent



Category: Starfighter (Comic)
Genre: Character Study, Cuddling & Snuggling, Fluff and Angst, Gen, M/M, Mission Fic, War
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-06
Updated: 2012-12-06
Packaged: 2017-11-20 12:35:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,795
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/585481
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pent/pseuds/Pent
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Knowledge is power to be well-guarded, and Keeler has a hard time doing so with persistently curious Abel around.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Clutching at Straws

The Lieutenant swirled a loose lock of hair that had come astray from his braid around his finger as he stared at the smooth off-white ceiling, sprawled out on his and Encke's combined beds. His droopy eyes stayed focused and bright, deep in thought. It was rare for him to be alone in the room. He usually rose and silently got ready for his shift while the _Sleipnir_ eerily whispered white noise through her halls; while he listened to Encke's heavy breathes, rarely disrupted from bumps in his dreams. Keeler typically crept back in the early hours of the morning, cautious as to not to wake Encke with the sound of the door or with his cold touch as he crawled into bed under his limp arm and nuzzled into his warm chest, exhausted from a long day's work.

Today, Keeler had slipped off the clock early, justifying his actions to himself as a well-deserved break to cool the plethora of discouraging thoughts boiling in his mind. He found himself occasionally staring at the digital clock mounted on the wall, which burned a searing green 2100 hours when the door finally hissed open.

"Hey, baby," Encke said, sounding more worn-out than surprised. He shuffled through the room and kept his concerned eyes locked onto Keeler, who beamed at him with a sweet smile. Encke freed his hands of the reports he carried and sat on the bed next to Keeler, placing a hand on his forehead. "You alright?"

Keeler wormed his head away from Encke's purposely fragile touch and kissed his hand, insisting, "You worry too much, sweetheart." He sat up and laid his head on Encke's shoulder while the fighter stroked his leg. With his hot breath muffled by Encke's back, Keeler explained, "I just took the rest of the day off."

Feeling Encke chuckle caused Keeler to smile again. He wrapped his arms around him and closed his eyes. "Hm. That's unlike you," Encke pointed out, gently breaking free of Keeler's embrace by standing and pacing back to retrieve his reports.

"Mmhmm. How are the fighters holding up?"

"They'll manage," Encke offered as he sat back down with Keeler, frowning whilst eyeing his face. "You sure you alright, baby? You're lookin' pale."

"Encke, I'm fine," he insisted again, causing the fighter's eyebrows to rise as he brushed his fingers over Keeler's flushed cheeks. When Encke shifted and held his uncertain, unwavering gaze, Keeler matched his eyes and added, "I'm just a bit stressed."

Situating himself onto his side to copy the navigator's sunken position while he gently teased a strand of his pretty blonde hair, a deeply concerned frown etched itself onto Encke's face. He kissed Keeler's forehead and wearily stated, "You're working yourself to the ground, Keeler. You're making yourself sick; you gotta slow down and try not to let everything get to you." 

Keeler skimmed his fingertips across Encke's chest to avoid looking into his saddened eyes, saying nothing.

"Baby?"

Puffing his cheeks and peacefully lifting his eyes to meet Encke's, Keeler inquired, "Do you know Abel? I believe he's Cain's navigator."

Encke paused before he answered, "I may have seen him around."

It was a long time before Keeler said anything back, as if he was carefully stranding the words together in his head, eyebrows knit together in concentration as he continued to trace his fingers over Encke's form. "He's such a darling," he eventually said with a warm, unfocused smile.

"Is he?" Encke asked flatly, reminiscing on his rough encounter with Cain. 

He knew Keeler well enough to know that he had weaved around the subject rather than revealing the true source of his stress. Encke knew Keeler would never put that tightly compacted time-bomb to words unless it exploded. Keeler was a man of action and it was not like him to talk things out, especially when said things only affected him emotionally. Encke would listen to Keeler if he was in turmoil enough to vent at him, but the unspoken rule between them was to not bring such things up.

The fighter shifted closer to Keeler while he waited for him to continue, but his eyelids had grown heavy and his lips were tightly closed. Absently, Encke sighed and breathed, "Cain is a fuckin' handful."

Keeler curled into his chest and hummed, "Mmmm," in acknowledgement. Encke took that as his cue to shut up and ran his fingers through Keeler's still-braided hair. It was not long before the weight on the Lieutenant's mind forced him into a troubled sleep deep enough for Encke to crawl out of the bed to turn off the lights. Concern nagged at him once more as he watched Keeler's exhausted figure through the darkness. Encke returned to bed with him, unable to even close his eyes that night.

* * *

Keeler had carefully wiggled his way out of Encke's protective slumbering embrace and stumbled through the darkness, getting ready hours before he usually woke. Not only did sleep had to be selflessly cast aside during such a critical mission with such narrow odds for survival, but Keeler had other pressing matters to deal with as well. _Sleipnir_ appeared to be vacant as Keeler bolted out of the hanger towards the central control room. 

Upon discovering that he was not first person to rise that morning, Keeler bit his lip. "Good morning, Abel," he greeted brightly.

Although bitter, Keeler could not help to pull his lips into a smile at Abel's obvious attempt not to jump in his startledness. "Oh—good morning, sir."

"Morning, indeed. You're here hours early," Keeler commented as he made his way over to the young navigator, glancing down at his work.

Abel tensed and faint redness began to spread across his cheeks. "I woke up early, sir, and thought I would do something productive since I was unable to fall back asleep," he explained. "There's so much to be done."

A big smile spread across Keeler's face. "Well, aren't you just the sweetest?" he chimed, causing Abel's cheeks to redden further. The information on his screen said something contrary to 'productive', in the sense that Abel had described, but Keeler decided to keep playing along, as he had been for days now. Keeler quickly caught onto the fact that Abel was up to something, and Abel—who was a navigator, thus far from dumb—knew that he had been caught. Finding Abel's excuses and inability to lie adorable, Keeler baited him like it was a game. 

Boldly strutting to his station, the Lieutenant made it clear to Abel that he was watching him like a hawk. A short amount of time had passed before Keeler's icy stare burning through Abel's neck made him uncomfortable enough to submit to his superior's silent commands. He started doing what he was supposed to be doing, albeit with a slight quiver in his wrist and a tightening of his jaw. Smiling coyly to himself, Keeler lazily gazed at his own monitor, noting that he did not have an excessive workload that day.

The two worked in silence for a while. Neither navigators were getting much work done, as Keeler constantly flicked his eyes up to watch Abel, who was too flustered to engage himself to his actual work. When Abel appeared to have stopped working altogether, Keeler decided to force himself to take the opportunity to directly address the issue.

"So, what are you trying to find?" Keeler asked, as if he was asking for the time. The Lieutenant did not look up from his monitor as he swished through observation layers until the silence in the room began to bother him. He poked his head up to look at Abel, urging him to respond.

"Nothing, sir."

Lowering his eyes and smiling, Keeler stated, "Better me knowing what you're up to instead of Cook, sweetheart."

It was not Keeler's intention to scare Abel to the point of completely freezing, and he felt bad that his attempt at calmly bringing the subject up had failed. Ignoring his fault, Keeler patiently waited for Abel to answer his question. It was only when Keeler stood up to walk over to him again that Abel submitted to Keeler, eyes stinging with tears that he forced himself to hold back. "I just don't think this mission is being executed as well as it could be... s-sir," he puled. 

Although his face remained neutral, Keeler's eyes softened. He pulled up a seat next to Abel and silently waited for him to continue. Rather than making him feel more comfortable, Keeler had only made Abel's skin crawl. Abel composed himself by taking a deep breath, and tried not to look towards Keeler's general direction by staring hard into his monitor.

"See, sir," Abel started, flipping through screens and revealing to Keeler everything that he had been sticking his nose into. Substantial amount of data appeared on the screen, impressing Keeler with how far Abel had gone in his little research game. "The way we're setting up the engines; the incomplete routing; fuel access; the lack of overall complete data... it's as if—"

"—we're not planning any sort of return. Yes, Abel," Keeler completed softly, offering Abel and empathetic smile and a stroke of his tense shoulder.

The shaky breath Abel huffed caused Keeler to have consciously avoid eye contact with him. "Lieutenant, sir. You have to stop this; you can't purposely lead this entire fleet to it's death! This isn't a hopeless mission—please, sir!"

Ignoring his eyes welling with tears, Keeler looked strongly into the navigator's eyes and gave him a weak smile, whispering, "I'm sorry, Abel. I'm so sorry." 

Keeler heard a frustrated sniffle escape Abel as he rose and walked towards the exit of the room, feeling so much pressure from the stress that he thought he was going to physically break. He wondered just how many other navigators were too curious for their own good—willing to dig around a bit and observe the simple fact that this mission was not just unlikely to fail, but _designed_ to fail. Just before he managed to leave the room, Abel fiercely proclaimed, "I'm not giving up, sir! I'm going home after this mission, no matter what!"

The burning passion in his voice only drove the knife deeper into Keeler's heart. He hurried back to his room, feeling as though his face would crack from his temples down to his cheeks. All he wanted was Encke to hold him, null the pain, and lie to him—to reassure him and pretend that things were going to be okay. He wanted to breathe in his scent and stare at his face; to engrave his image, voice, and touch into his mind, and cherish him for the remaining time that he could.


End file.
